Word: humid
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...overcast but humid morning. After registering at the Tanzania National Parks Office at the start of the Umbwe route, we waited as the porters divided our packs - food for six days, tents, chairs and other paraphernalia - between them. Each porter carried around 65 pounds, often balanced on their heads, while we each carried between 10 and 25 pounds in small backpacks. And then we were off. The first few hours took us on a gentle path through dense forest. The going was easy, though Michael, our guide, constantly reminded us to take it slowly and allow our bodies to acclimatize...
...manufacturing sufficient quantities of any bacteria in a stable form is a technical and scientific challenge; plague bugs, for example, degrade within hours when exposed to the sun, and anthrax spores tend to clump together in humid conditions. The Japanese cult Aum Shinrikyo sprayed anthrax and botulism eight times over parts of Tokyo without effect...
...somewhere special to go. Today is Aug. 30, the day of East Timor's first democratic elections, and when the Amarals arrive at the local school soon after sunrise to vote, there's already a growing queue. "It's the start of something new," says Jos?. The morning is humid and the wait will be long, but Jos? is smiling. After all, this is a day unlike any other...
...their training camp last Monday on what was one of the hottest days of the year in Mankato, Minn. All-Pro tackle Korey Stringer was overcome during the morning session and had to be carted from the field. The next day turned out to be even hotter and more humid. Some of Stringer's teammates reportedly teased him about a newspaper photo that caught him doubled over with exhaustion the day before. "I'll show them!" the 335-lb. offensive lineman must have figured. He turned in what was by all accounts a stellar performance, although he vomited three times...
That week, you'll recall, was oppressively humid, and I decided it would be good to cool off after practice. Well, the decision was a lot easier to make when Damon Rainie, my old roommate, suggested that I jump over the Currier women who were getting ready to launch their shell into the Charles River. So I stripped off my clothes (except for the bathing suit) and sprinted down the boathouse, safely clearing the bow of the Currier boat on my way into the effluvium we have all come to love after four years in Cambridge...